


Kinder (Not Kindle)

by cryptozoology (nateheywood)



Category: Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Cute, Fluff, Gifts, Holidays, M/M, Rich Pete, Store Owner Patrick, but - Freeform, i should have been writing my zombie fic, just fluff no plot, this is purely self indulgent, toy shops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-24 04:49:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13206318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nateheywood/pseuds/cryptozoology
Summary: Patrick is the owner of a struggling toy shop. Pete might be a good distraction.





	Kinder (Not Kindle)

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be posted on Christmas, but you know what? There are technically eight days of Christmas. Catholicism saves the day.
> 
> Also: fairy lights are like teeny little light bulbs on a single copper wire. They are different from regular Christmas lights.

“Brendon,” Patrick whispered with dawning horror. “What the fuck did you do?”

 

He was staring at an Amazon box, which was filled to the brim with different varieties of Christmas lights. The box wasn’t alarmingly large, about the size of a milk crate, but Patrick knew, for a fact, that Christmas lights were insanely expensive.

 

He picked up a tiny box of fairy lights and looked at the price sticker. Forty. Fucking. Dollars.

 

He told himself that it was inappropriate to scream, no matter how much he wanted to. 

 

“Brendon?” he called sweetly.

 

Patrick picked up another box, a long one filled with string lights. It was thirty five dollars. He was squeezing the cardboard so hard that it was starting to crumple under his grip, and he quickly set it down, opting instead to bury his fingernails into the palms of his hands. If he was going to return these, they couldn’t be completely destroyed.

 

He was just about to scream Brendon’s name, unable to keep ahold of his anger anymore, when the younger man poked his head into the back room.

 

“You called?” he said cheekily.

 

“Brendon,” Patrick pinched the bridge of his nose. He shut his eyes, because if he looked at Brendon’s face, he wasn’t sure what he’d do. “I told you that you could order three boxes of lights.”

 

“Yeah, but three boxes wasn’t sufficient to decorate the store! They wouldn’t cover nearly enough!”

 

“I thought we agreed that we would only decorate the desk and the front door?”

 

“That isn’t enough Christmas spirit! We need to draw in customers with our holiday charm!” Patrick looked at Brendon in disbelief.

 

“We can’t afford this, Brendon, I thought I told you--”

 

“We can earn it all back with the new revenue these bring us!” Brendon reasoned, picking up the fairy lights and frowning at the teeny box. “This is a lot smaller than I imagined.”

 

“Yeah, and it was forty dollars, Brendon!” Patrick was borderline shouting, and he was aware that he was maybe overreacting, but this was ridiculous. The shop could barely afford to heat itself, and Patrick had been planning on paying for the lights out of pocket, unable to resist Brendon’s puppy eyes. He had been carefully putting aside money since Thanksgiving, but he only had fifty dollars and that only covered the fucking fairy lights.

 

“But just imagine how pretty they’ll look around the windows!” Brendon was waving the box around passionately, earnest expression in place and the beginnings of what looked like the Puppy Eyes.

 

“We have to return these,” Patrick said, looking away. “You can pick out fifty dollars worth out of here, because that’s the budget I gave you  _ in the first place, _ ” he added through gritted teeth at Brendon’s crestfallen look. “But we’re returning the rest.”

 

“But--”

 

“We can’t afford all this, Brendon! Fuck!” Patrick deflated after the outburst, feeling just a little bit guilty about shouting at Brendon. He let out a heavy exhale and shut his eyes, prepared to give in. “Alright, just, tell me how much it all was,” he sighed, pinching his nose again. Maybe he’ll just not buy any coffee this week --

 

“One hundred sixty three,” Brendon said in a very, very small voice.

 

The Kill Bill sirens were echoing in Patrick’s head as the words left Brendon’s mouth, time slowing as soon as he heard ‘one hundred’.

 

One hundred and sixty three dollars.

 

“Including shipping?” Patrick asked faintly, staring at the box. Oh God, please let it include shipping.

 

“We have Prime, so,” Brendon said with some confidence, even as Patrick’s stomach dropped.

 

“No,” Patrick was clenching his fists again. “We had to cancel because we couldn’t afford it anymore.”

 

Brendon grimaced. 

 

“Okay, so you’re going to choose the fifty dollar’s worth,” Patrick said, making his way towards the door. “And then you’re going to return the rest, because I don’t know how to do that through Amazon and this is your fault, anyway.”

 

He was shutting the door to the backroom before Brendon could respond, because he was very close to throttling the only other person working at the store and that wouldn’t help his already struggling business.

 

“Fucking Brendon,” Patrick muttered, kicking a little at one of the book shelves. “Why the fuck--”

 

He stopped talking, frozen, because there was a customer a few shelves down, looking at him like he wanted to laugh but thought best not to.

 

“Oh my God,” he said, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. “I am so sorry, we didn’t hear you come in--”

 

“It’s fine,” the man said, but that did nothing to help alleviate Patrick’s embarrassment. “I won’t report you for employee abuse.”

 

“I wasn’t-- he’s more of a friend than a-- I’ve known him since he was five,” Patrick eventually settled on, blushing even harder at his stuttering. “He deserves any abuse I give him.”

 

The man smiled, amused, and Patrick realized that he was talking to someone incredibly attractive, and that he had definitely ruined any chances with him before he’d even known he was in the shop. His humiliation was never ending.

 

“Do you need any help?” Patrick asked in an attempt to move the conversation.

 

“Actually, I was having a hard time finding your kindles…?”

 

“You’re probably looking for the electronics store next to us,” Patrick said tiredly, motioning to the wall that divided the two shops vaguely. “I know “Kinder” sounds like “Kindle”, but we only carry toys and bo--”

 

“Wait, I was joking!” The guy said, laughing again. “God, how many people come in here thinking you sell kindles?”

 

“Not that many,” Patrick lied, getting a little irritated. His store was struggling enough already, he didn’t need some stranger coming in and guessing the exact source of the problem within ten minutes. “Anything else I can do for you?”

 

The guy’s smile faded a little, but not completely. “Yeah, actually, I need to get something for my son, but I’m not exactly sure what.”

 

Patrick bit his lip and nodded, making his way towards the guy. “You’re not getting him like, an iPad?”

 

The guy groaned and pressed his hands to his face. “Definitely not. I got him some sort of tablet last year, and now it's the source of every issue I have with the kid.”

 

Patrick laughed. “So you’re going the opposite direction now?”

 

He nodded, grinning back. “I’m Pete,” he said suddenly, sticking out his hand.

 

“Patrick.” They shook, and Patrick couldn’t help but think about how strange this all was. Customers, when they came in, usually preferred to wander around the store and find things for themselves, and when they  _ did  _ want help, Brendon was usually the one to do it. Patrick was so impossibly bad at the people side of business - he was fine at the finances,  _ great  _ at knowing what the kids wanted, but he was completely clueless when it came to parents. Unfortunately, the parents were who he was mainly dealing with, because kids didn’t have jobs or money.

 

“So,” Patrick said, drawing out the ‘o’. “What’s your kid into?”

 

Pete rolled his eyes, but his smile was fond. “Besides video games? He likes - no -  _ loves _ dinosaurs - he’s been obsessed with anything prehistoric for two entire years. I let him watch Jurassic Park when he was like, five, and he’s been into them ever--”

 

“ _ Five? _ ” Patrick blurted without thinking, and then covered his mouth with horror. This was why he didn’t deal with the customers: he interrupted them and then questioned their parenting.

 

To his surprise, Pete didn’t puff up with indignation and offense - he instead grinned sheepishly and shrugged, saying, “I know, I know, but he didn’t get scared, so I’m not too concerned,” his face suddenly dropped. “Or maybe I should be? Is it weird if your kid isn’t disturbed when he sees a man’s chewed off arm?”

 

Patrick raised his eyebrows, amused. “I mean, my mom showed me  _ Gremlins  _ when I was younger, and it gave me nightmares, so I don’t think it’s bad parenting - but, I definitely would have wet my pants if I watched Jurassic Park at five. There’s a fifty-fifty chance that you’re raising a serial killer.”

 

Pete snorted. “I mean, if it gets him famous, I won’t complain.”   
  
“Yeah, you get royalties if your image is used in the media, right? You could profit off of him.”

 

Pete laughed, and Patrick’s heart swelled, which was not fucking okay. Pete had a kid, which means he was probably married and very unavailable. Even if he wasn’t, it was a little creepy to be hit on by the owner of the establishment you’re in.

 

“We actually have a whole dinosaur display,” Patrick said once Pete was finished giggling. Pete looked at him with wide eyes. 

 

“For real?”

 

Patrick gave him a look. “Your kid isn’t the only seven year old to love dinosaurs.”

 

“You mean, he isn’t as special as I thought?” Pete gasped, looking at Patrick like he’d slapped him, a small smile dancing at the corners of his mouth.

 

“Nope,” Patrick said, popping the ‘p’ and leading Pete over to the frankly enormous display Brendon had set up a few weeks prior at the front of the store. Puzzles, figurines, and books were propped up artfully around the table, and a large stuffed T-Rex stood next to the whole thing. Pete immediately gravitated towards it, stroking the soft teal fur on its head.

 

“This is everything we have on dinosaurs,” Patrick said, organizing the basket of hatchable eggs mindlessly as he watched Pete mess around with the stuffie. “We do have some more books, though, on the shelves back there.”

 

“I think I already know what I need,” Pete said, grinning and patting the T-Rex’s head. “Bronx will love this, it’s perfect.” He peered down at the rest of the display, and his eyebrows raised at the basket Patrick was messing around with. 

 

“No way,” he said, materializing next to Patrick and picking up one of the packages. “They still make these?”

 

“Yes…?” Patrick said, unsure of how to react. 

 

“These were my favorites when I was growing up,” Pete was smiling down at the egg fondly, and Patrick’s attraction was spiraling quickly into a crush. “I remember putting something like four into a glass and watching them all hatch at once.”

 

“Maybe you should buy some for your kid,” Patrick suggested, pushing the basket slightly towards Pete. 

 

Pete grabbed five more, and Patrick raised his eyebrows. “Okay, I know you’re just trying to sell some stuff,” Pete said, waving the five packages at him. “But nostalgia is a powerful thing.”

 

Pete ended up grabbing two books and another small stuffed stegosaurus, and when they got to the register Patrick was a little apprehensive to type it all in. They’d had to up all of the prices around the shop by a little bit to compensate for the drop in revenue, and he was a little afraid that Pete would regret everything he’d picked up.

 

“Your total is one hundred and six dollars,” Patrick said, waiting for a wince, or a disbelieving expression, but Pete didn’t even blink at the price. In fact, his card was already inserted into the machine.

 

“This place is great,” Pete said as the machine beeped for him to take out his card. “I’m definitely coming back - I have a few nieces and nephews.”

 

“Thank you,” Patrick said, smiling and putting everything but the T-Rex in a bag. He wished that everyone could see the charm of the place. He grabbed the printed receipt and placed it on the table, along with a pen. “I’m gonna need you to sign-- ah!”

 

Pete had grabbed the pen from his hand and also his wrist, and was scribbling something onto Patrick’s hand. He released him when he finished writing, and signed the receipt with a light blush. He grabbed the bag and the T-Rex, giving Patrick a megawatt smile.

 

“Call me sometime,” he said, and then he was out the door and heading to his car.

 

Patrick looked at his hand. Pete had scrawled his phone number and a little heart next to it, and Patrick could feel the blush rush all the way down his neck.

 

“Definitely,” he said to the receipt, grinning. “I will.”

**Author's Note:**

> I actually have two chapters continuing my zombie fic from June - if any of you read it, should I post them now or when I've finished writing the whole thing?


End file.
